Carefree – that’s how you looked in that photograph, the one from your younger days. Over-excited and at ease. Cocky even, as if the future didn’t exist. As if anything aside from that moment, before or after, didn’t exist.
Until I saw that photograph, whoever you were before me wasn’t wholly real to me. A shadow or a ghost that I didn’t know well. The photograph gave form to that shadow. It filled it out.
When you told me that you’d like me to meet your friends – the ones you pointed out to me – the paper suddenly loomed in front of me like a mountain I was daunted by. Who were these people who knew a side of you without me? What yardstick will I be measured against? Who will I fail in comparison to? Those were my first thoughts, thoughts that I didn’t share with you.
Then later, as we gossiped about coworkers, my eyelids slowly began to droop; your fingers rhythmically stroking my hair reassured me that the past couldn’t hurt me. If I said, “I am,” it also meant “You are,” if I rearranged the letters a certain way – a little puzzle whose logic only I understood. It meant that, to us, only the present mattered.
If there was a you before me, it was someone I don’t know. But who you are is who I am.
Hi everyone! I’m working on a minimalist fiction project for this year’s #AtoZChallenge. The story will be shared in snippets, and the events occur non-sequentially. It is for the reader to interpret and form the “whole”. You can read all the posts here. Join me, and do share links to your AtoZ posts as well!